


sugar cubes and clovers, four leaves to be found

by spaace



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26293930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaace/pseuds/spaace
Summary: “Reddie coffee shop AU where barista Richie instantly has a crush on the beautiful little angry man that comes in and is like “congratulations! you’re the 87th customer of the day, your coffee’s on the house” bc he doesn’t know how to flirt and he does it every single time Eddie comes in with a new random number until one day Eddie finally snaps and gets all pissed like “dude, you’ve been giving me free coffee every day for three weeks, when are you gonna write your number on my cup so I can ask you out?” because Eddie also doesn’t know how to flirt” prompt from gas-station-trackphone on tumblr!
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	sugar cubes and clovers, four leaves to be found

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me! @denbroughbill

eddie buries himself deeper in his jacket. the little glowing neon sign shining in the grey, rainy overcast seems like it’s laughing at him; the neon red letters distort themselves into manic grinning faces, mocking eddie for his inability to open the door and walk in. through the window, eddie can see people gathered in chairs, a short queue at the counter, and the smell of coffee wafts out into the wet, cool autumn morning air. it was just a quaint little coffee shop, right outside of campus where some students worked easy jobs and others studied, nothing he should be afraid of. but eddie’s a little out of his comfort zone.

he’s a creature of habit, he likes structure. even after leaving his mother’s strict household and all of her rules, eddie likes a routine. he likes waking up an hour earlier for class, he likes putting his outfits together for the week, he likes meal prepping on sunday evenings, he likes highlighting his own thoughts in yellow, and his professor’s in blue. he really likes when he wakes up to the smell of fresh roasted black coffee in his shared apartment, and he likes when his coffee machine’s working, that’s his favorite. 

the broken coffee machine has eddie on edge recently, barking at bill when he didn’t mean to. his friend recommends this little coffee shop huddled despondent among taller buildings in the area, but trying new things sometimes puts him on edge, too.

morning light shines through the storm clouds and into the coffee shop windows and leaves everything hazy and blue. the half a dozen customers glance up as the door swings open, and they return to their conversations as the door closes behind eddie. there are plant terrariums hanging from the ceiling along with unique light fixtures, but he didn’t get a good look at them, he only looks ahead as he walks through aisles of stools. the counter is empty besides the pastries and breakfast sandwiches under the glass, and a chalkboard menu with their specials for the week. he feels like an asshole for ringing the bell for service, but he does it anyways.

normally, someone appears with a fake polite smile and a rehearsed welcome speech and “have you been here before?”, but this is out of the ordinary for eddie, too. a taller man with thick glasses and loose curls tied in a bun emerges, wiping his hands on a dishrag, still laughing at something said in the backroom. he throws the rag over his shoulder before he begins talking.    
  
“hey, what do you know? you, my friend,” he points at eddie with a broad, happy, and eager smile, “are our 34th customer today. your drink’s on the house! what can i get you?” 

eddie blinks in surprise, then raises a skeptical eyebrow at that. from the moment he was born, he was dealt a shitty hand; he doesn’t win anything, not even as small as a free coffee. he awoke this morning annoyed and frustrated that he would have to commute to this coffee shop instead of scuffle across the hall for his morning coffee, and the coming and going rain today isn’t doing much for him either, so he suspends all disbelief and allows something good to happen, and lets a soft smile overcome the angry scowl he’s had on all morning.    
  


“oh, just a coffee, thanks.”   
  
the barista pauses, blinks, and huffs a little laugh. “yeah, but what kind?” he does a gesture with his hand like he’s motioning to all of the options eddie has to choose from are right in front of him, and this throws eddie even further for a loop. 

he just drinks his coffee black because that’s how bill drinks it, and that’s how it was introduced to him. they don’t keep stray packets of sugar in the drawers, or flavored creamer in the fridge at the apartment. coffee’s the same as beer to eddie, in the way that he doesn’t drink it for its taste, but to get the job done. he drinks coffee for the caffeine; for the energy to help him get through the day, and he may or may not have read an article on the health benefits, but for the most part, he drank it because it’s became a comforting routine.   
  
“just a regular coffee?” eddie tries again, but it comes out more as a question than a solid answer.   
  
the barista looks side to side for a second, then leans across the counter, and ushers for eddie to do the same with a beckoning, curled finger. up this close, eddie can tell his name tag says richie.   
  
“what’s your name?” richie asks, moving his glasses up the bridge of his nose.   
  
eddie’s nose wrinkles and his forehead creases in confusion.    
  
“i’m going to need a name for the order, kid.”    
  
“it’s not kid, it’s eddie.” he shoots back almost immediately.  eddie gulps when he remembers some people are just comfortable talking to strangers, and that comes easy for them, and he’s probably being a real asshole when richie is just trying to pass the time at work and strike up a conversation.  but the tightness in his chest eases when richie stands back up straight, throwing his hands up in defense with an amused grin.

richie switches the rag from one shoulder to the other. “alright, alright, eddie,” he emphasizes his name, and pulls a sharpie out from his pocket. “you’ve got a free coffee, on the house, and all you want is a plain ole black cup of joe?”   
  
eddie rubs the back of his neck, small blush rising to his cheeks. richie has a point, and it makes him feel silly. he’s already at some coffee shop instead of his own apartment, and it’s not like he’s wasting any money on trying something new. eddie shrugs a shoulder. “what do you recommend?”

a downpour starts outside with hard rain drizzling against the windows, and thumping against the roof. richie points the sharpie to the roof, indicating the rain, “for that, something warm. it’s fall, so something seasonal..” then he points at eddie, “and for you, something sweet.”   
  
richie taps the chalkboard menu with his sharpie, and it’s almost like he read eddie’s mind. “the cinnamon maple latte. whaddya say, eds?”    
  
eddie raises a curious eyebrow, lips pursed as he thinks. he should be reminding richie his name is eddie, not kid, and definitely not eds-- but he was eyeing the the maple cinnamon latte, and it sounds great. he’s been curious of those seasonal drinks they show on the tv every fall without fail, but bill says starbucks prices are a ripoff. and his barista’s kind of cute, even with his coke bottle glasses, and maybe a little funny. he likes how he talks out the side of his mouth in this comedic way, his voice orotund and teasing and joking, like he was playing with him, and it makes eddie’s palms sweat, so he just nods in agreement.

  
richie grins something big and fierceful, the corners of his mouth inching towards his ears, and it makes eddie smile, too. he scribbles “eds” in the sharpie on the cup in messy print, it looks something like cursive and print jumbled together.    
  
“it’s eddie, by the way,” eddie stresses, small blush creeping on his face as he puts his card back into his wallet, not needing it anymore.   
  
“you know how starbucks is always accidentally misspelling names?” richie asks, putting finger quotation marks around ‘accidentally’. eddie nods.   
  
“yeah, we just shorten them here. you’ve gotta get used to it, eds.” eddie struggles to keep a straight face when richie winks at him. 

as soon as eddie steps outside, the rain drenches him. he pulls his hood up and zips the coat with his free hand, then holds onto his tall to go cup for dear life; the only thing keeping him warm while he sprints back to his car. while waiting for the car to warm up, he finally tastes the cinnamon maple latte. the first frothy, milky sip creeps down his throat and only a few minutes later, he’s bathing in the kick of caffeine. it’s spicy, it’s sweet, it’s delicious, and richie is right- eddie may have to tolerate the nickname if he’s going to come back for another drink, and maybe to see his barista.   
  
♡

a week later, it’s still rainy and cold when bill and eddie pull together their funds to replace the coffee machine in their apartment. it’s a frigid friday morning when they toast and clink their mugs together at breakfast. the bitter, fresh roasted scent fills the air in their small apartment and eddie finds it still lingering in the afternoon when he awakes from his nap.   
  
he blinks awake, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his knuckles, curled against the arm of the couch since bill takes up most of it. there’s nothing special on tv, just whatever channel they left it on, and raindrops tapping the windows. the diffused gray light of the darkening sky pushes light just far enough in the apartment, and with the television flashing images, eddie can see his room mate still sleeping. 

the coffee scent hanging around the apartment reminds him of the cafe down the street, and how he could go for another latte, but they just purchased their new machine, and he had a cup this morning. eddie chews on his lip, thinking of the predicament. a warmth pooled in his stomach thinking of the unconventionally attractive barista who would make his drink, and how eddie has to stop himself from laughing at how ridiculous he is. maybe it’s the bit of caffeine still in his body from this morning, or the adrenaline and chance richie may take his order again, but eddie gets up and gets ready regardless. 

“bill,” eddie whispers, shaking his friend by the shoulder softly after he changed out of his pajamas. bill tosses and rolls over, hair sprawled across the arm of the couch. “bill, do you want a croissant sandwich from smooth brew?”    
  
bill doesn’t open his eyes but he smiles softly, sleepily and hums in agreement. it’s enough for eddie to grab his keys from the hook by the front door, throw on his jacket, and head out.

outside, fresh fallen leaves are strewed across the busy street, and crunch under eddie’s oxford doc martens. the rain let up long enough for him to walk from the parking lot to the cafe, and the smell of fresh baked pastries greet him as he opens the door. a little jingling bell alerts his presence, but he doubts anyone heard it as the shop is busier today. he busies himself by switching between social media apps, and the queue shortens quickly. sometimes, he’d look up and catch richie drying a dessert plate behind the counter, or he could hear his loud, barking laugh, and it made eddie shake his head and smile.   
  
he reaches the front of the counter, and before he could greet richie, or order, richie exclaims, “yowza! look who it is!”

richie throws his arms towards eddie like he’s introducing him to the whole cafe. it makes eddie blush profusely, and shush richie and fumble his hands around to get richie to put his arms down, but the shop’s busy enough that no one was really paying attention anyways.   
  
he tosses his head back when he laughs, touching around on the screen in front of him to get ready to take eddie’s order. “wow, eds, are you the luckiest guy around, or what? i should’ve rolled out the red carpet for you!” 

eddie doesn’t look up from fishing through his wallet for his card, cheeks still warm and pink. “yeah, what makes you say that?”   
  
“you’re our 134th customer! another free drink for you, old champ!” richie extends his arm across the counter and punches eddie’s shoulder playfully. “whaddya say? a pint of spiced chai? a cup of earl grey?”

another free drink? eddie blinks, pleasantly surprised, but his gut is telling him this is too good to be true. he’s only been to smooth brew twice in his entire life, and his drinks have been free both times. he ignores the feeling in his stomach and orders a caramel hazelnut latte from the chalkboard menu of seasonal specials, and pays for bill’s egg and cheese croissant sandwich. 

“i would’ve dressed better if i knew i’d be receiving the  _ royal  _ treatment,” eddie says, playing off of richie’s terrible english impression earlier. it came to him so quickly, like it’s becoming routine to joke around with richie. he curses himself afterwards for such a bad joke, but richie seems to like it.   
  
richie hides his smile behind the computer screen, but eddie can see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the laugh lines indenting his cheeks. “i like the sweater, it looks cute on you.”   
  


eddie feels like his brain is short circuiting. the feeling in eddie’s gut wasn’t danger, or uneasiness, but there is a hint of suspicion— it was trying to tell him that richie was flirting with him. it was a feeling of excitement or nervousness working together to tie his stomach into knots, the same feeling that left eddie’s shoulder warm where richie’s knuckles grazed it, like his fist burned through the layers of clothing he’s wearing. maybe a feeling of satisfaction too, knowing the extra minutes he spent in the mirror before he headed out the door paid off, but eddie wouldn’t admit to that part.

moments later, richie walks over to the table where eddie’s waiting, instead of calling his name from the front counter. “ah, ‘ello, guvnah!”

eddie almost frowned, half expecting there to be a frothy milk heart poured in his latte when richie bows, twirls his hand, and sits the coffee on the table, to prove his suspicions correct, but there’s not. the terrible british accent keeps a half smile on his face though, and he picks up a flyer richie slides across the table along with the sandwich. the flyer says something about smooth brew’s first stand up comedy night, featuring their very own barista, and underneath there’s photos of the comedians performing; including one of richie with a wide, open mouth smile and jazz hands. 

eddie looks up, chuckling softly when he sees richie still standing at his table, now mimicking the same expression and stance as the photo.    
  
“you do stand up?” he asks, and richie’s beaming, even though it’s obvious he’s trying to downplay his excitement and play it cool. 

he taps on the flyer a couple of times, pointing at the date. “no, i’m  _ going  _ to do stand up, next week. thought since i was your favorite barista, you’ll come see me on stage.” 

the sentence isn’t delivered with a wink, or said in some sultry, flirty voice. it seemed like a genuine invitation, which made eddie question it even more. are baristas suppose to be this friendly with their customers? there’s flyers printed, sure, but is richie hand delivering them to everyone?

eddie bites the inside of his cheek, not debating whether he’d go or not; he really wants to, it’s more thinking of his schedule and everything he has planned the following week, and if he could make the time. a five day academic week with papers due, projects to finish, exams to study for, and bill and him try to squeeze as many horror movies as they can in between school work during the fall months— that’s not even including trying to get enough sleep. 

when he looks up, he sees richie’s puppy dog eyes magnified behind his prescription glasses, hands clasped together, overexagratingly begging silently.   
  
“you’re my  _ only  _ barista,” eddie resorts, not counting bill and the coffee machine at home, and continues quickly before richie could get down on his knees and beg, embarrassing the both of them. “i’ll try my best, i’ve been really busy..”   
  
richie’s expression changes instantly, his pouting lips turn into a wide goofy grin, and he winks, snaps then points in eddie’s direction. “i’ll hold you to that, eds.”   
  
eddie rolls his eyes and huffs a suppressed laugh through his nose, an unbidden warmth spreading through his chest. he takes a quick sip as richie retreats back behind the counter. this latte’s as good as the first one, nutty and sweet, but still packs that coffee punch. he thinks about richie as he watches him walk away, about seeing him pacing around and telling jokes in front of an audience, and how he probably tests out his material on other coworkers, annoying them to death. this makes eddie sputter a laugh, coffee spewing from his mouth but the thought’s too funny to be annoyed by it. he wipes his face clean before gathering his order to head out the door.

“you’re not going to do your british voice, are you?” eddie calls out to richie in a near empty cafe now, as other customers have left, using his elbow to keep the door open. richie looks up from grinding coffee beans and attaching a filter to a machine to see eddie waving around his flyer, he laughs and gives eddie the finger. 

♡

eddie’s seething in incandescent rage, caffeine and anxiety fighting in his brain. his bottom lip is almost gnawed raw, chewing as he forces himself to concrete. he’s on his third cup of plain black coffee; bill refilling his mug without him having to ask, claiming it’s fuel for the all night study session, but the coffee isn’t near as tasty as the free drinks he’s received from smooth brew. 

he’s been studying since the sky was bright, shiny, and hopeful. now thick grey clouds outside have gave in to the weight of the harsh rain, pouring it over the city and drumming against their roof. he and bill started early; hoping to overcome the stack they had waiting for them, hoping maybe if he starts that afternoon, he could finish all the assignments and make it to smooth brew and watch richie crack jokes.

eddie daydreamed about richie’s performance, it was his motivation, it was going to help him power through all of his school work, but when evening came, he hit a bump in the road. there’s no way he could still make it to watch him perform when he still has work to be done. eddie’s not just frustrated with the amount of work left, he’s frustrated because he isn’t too sure if richie is in to him or not. he had to be blurting out random numbers on the top of his head and giving eddie a free coffee every time he entered, right? but the thought makes eddie feel funny, no one’s ever did something like that for him before, and it’s hard to wrap his head around the concept. 

his thoughts ping pong between if richie’s in to him or not, and instead of this giddy feeling that you get when you’re plucking dandelion petals and asking if he loves you or if he loves you not, he makes eddie annoyed, frustrated, and he figures it would be a lot easier than sit around and wonder if richie just wrote his phone number on his coffee cup once so he could text him that he’d missed his show tonight.

that’s when the idea comes to him. maybe he won’t be able to see him perform, but he maybe able to pop in before smooth brew closes.

“do you want something to eat, bill?” eddie asks, already getting up from his seat regardless of his answer.

bill doesn’t look up from his index finger following the sentence he’s reading. “i’ll puh-prob-probably have a tv dinner.”

“i’ll grab you a sandwhich.” eddie says simply, tugging his beanie snug over his ears, and he’s out the door before bill can argue.

the rain, steady and soft, falls off the back of eddie’s slick windbreaker before he enters the cafe, then he drags his sneakers across the rug and shakes himself dry like a wet dog. it’s warming inside, where customers still linger and chatter. employees are sweeping and stacking chairs, cleaning the aftermath of comedy night like it never existed. eddie spots richie’s face towering among others and realizes how tall he really is. his head is thrown back, laughing as a group praises him and his material tonight, patting his back. as they disperse, eddie makes his way towards him.

he was hyper focused when he first entered the cafe, but now seeing richie, his knees aren’t supporting him like they were before. they’re weak and his stomach is fluttering when he sees richie smile, and he really needs to get it together.

“ah, eds!” richie exclaims happily, arms outreached for a hug. he looks like he’s still high on excitement from performing, but eddie manages to keep a straight face no matter how cute he may look.

“don’t ‘eds’ me,” he starts, and how strong richie’s chest feels under his index finger when he pokes it shouldn’t surprise him right now, but it does.

“you’ve been giving me free coffee every day i come here, when are you gonna write your number on my cup so i can ask you out?” eddie stands as tall as he can against richie’s height. richie’s facial expression changes, like he’s surprised and shocked and nervous all at once. it makes eddie nervous too, that he’s misinterpreted their interactions. they both open their mouths to explain, when one of richie’s coworkers strolls over, still laughing.

she places her hand on richie’s shoulder, keeping herself steady as she holds her gut with her free hand, laughing. “oh my god, is this him?”

eddie raises an eyebrow, and richie is begging, apparently her name is beverly, not to say anything else. beverly clears her throat before putting on her best richie voice and impersonating him, mimicking what eddie believes to be some jokes from earlier. she adjusts her imaginary glasses before saying, “so, there’s this cute guy that comes in, good thing he’s not here tonight. i’ve been giving this guy free coffee and—“

richie stops her right there, clasping a hand over her mouth to keep her from saying anything else. 

“like a parrot, this one right here. just repeats everything she hears, ain’t that right, beverly?”

she leaves the two be and all of the tension in eddie’s stomach subsides. richie’s face is red, he’s blushing and rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and the sight makes eddie’s knees jello again. he can feel his cheeks burning, too, and the tips of his ears. there’s a part of him that wants to pull him in for a hug or give him a kiss on the cheek, but what he does..

eddie punches richie in the shoulder. not intentionally meaning for it to be as hard as it was, he can tell by richie’s face, but he kind of deserves it. “you can tell a whole audience you’re into me and i’m the last one to hear about it?”

richie howls out a laugh, still rubbing his shoulder. “i’m glad to hear you feel the same way. hey, why don’t you let me take you out, eds?” 

and it takes everything in eddie’s power not to punch him again when richie slings an arm around his shoulder, leaning down to speak to him in his ear, “i know this great coffee shop..”


End file.
